Burns and Bullet Holes: Royai Angst Oneshots
by MoonStarDutchess
Summary: A collection of drama and/or angst filled Royai fics.
1. Chapter 1

**Burns and Bullet Holes : Royai Angst Collecition**

 **Author: MoonStarDutchess**

 **Story 1: A Disease Called Man**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist and gain no profit from this fanfiction other than writing practice.**

 **AN: This was originally posted as an M rated oneshot before the site got strict on the rating and I had to take it down. If you'd like to see the MA rated one, though it's not extremely detailed, it's available on archive of our own (AO3) under the same username I use on here.**

" **The world is beautiful, but has a disease called man." – Friedrich Nietzche**

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Roy sat upon a sand dune that overlooked the city of Ishbal that resided in the small annexed country of the same name. The war was now over and the soldiers that were recently sent to the devastated country were now responsible for the "cleaning up".

An explosion sounded in the distance and it was followed by several gunshots. He cringed and focused on the horizon. His stomach twitched when he heard another explosion and saw a fourth plume of smoke rise into the sunset painted sky. Each plume looked like small tornadoes whipping into the air, tainting it with the smell of burning flesh and moldy wood of flame stricken buildings.

The plumes evanesced into the air, making the sky appear like something only a benevolent omnipotent being could create. Of course, Roy knew the cause was scientific in nature. The fact this massacre even happened was evidence enough that there was no higher power like so many cultures claimed. If the Ishbalian god was there and loved his people, the army would've been struck down when the first soldier stepped foot in the country.

The cause of everything in the world was a disease by the name of man. Both good and bad occurred because of the choices human beings made. Those choices came depending on the way one was born and raised. The good or bad depended on things such as chemicals in the body and nurture.

Man was a disease that slowly developed through millions of years of evolution, just as a disease developed within the human body. Both slowly formed, adapted, created, and then inevitably destroyed.

He personified the world as a human with a bunch of deadly organisms within it that would eventually kill it, and in the process, kill each other. And he was one of the worst of those organisms. What made things so much worse was that the woman he thought of as a cure in the world, turned out to be just as horribly malignant as he was.

Seeing her there in that dusty hell, with that diseased look in her eyes, and that stench of blood on her hands, made him realize they were winning: that there was no antibodies, no medicine, to counter this disease.

Roy turned, ready to snap, when he heard footsteps coming up the sand dune toward him. He lowered his hand when he saw it was the woman in his thoughts.

She was still someone that stirred longing within him. Both for her body, and for her soul.

She carried her rifle as if it was far heavier than it was, her torn cape was draped around her shoulders, and her uniform jacket was unbuttoned, revealing the figure hugging dark brown shirt she wore. Her cute face was smudged with dirty and her beautiful lips were formed into a frown, causing a small scar at the corner of them to become more noticeable. The most expressive and outstanding thing about her were her eyes. Her gorgeous eyes were void of happiness and carried the toxins of being a murderer within them. Just as his did.

"Am I interrupting your thoughts, sir?" she questioned, her voice more stoically vacuous than he remembered it being when he was an apprentice working under her father. Back when he still had those ideals that he could help the people of Amestris and change the country for the better.

"Yes, you are, but you can sit with me anyway," he said.

"It's okay, sir. I'll leav—"

"Sit down, Cadet Hawkeye."

She walked over, sat down beside him and placed her rifle beside her, but didn't relax her posture in the slightest. "I got promoted. It's Second Lieutenant."

"Congratulations," he said but didn't really mean it. She didn't sound thrilled at the prospect either. "Usually you don't get that rank until you graduate."

He stared at her for a moment before redirecting his focus back to the cityscape. The silence between them spoke more about the events than any words could.

"I was thinking about how humanity is a disease," Roy finally said, deciding that they'd had enough of the city screaming at them with explosions. "I've contributed to a small part of that disease."

Riza nodded. "So have I."

"The entire planet is diseased and there's no way to keep it from being such. Children are such a light but eventually those children will grow into toxic organisms and bring the world one-step closer to ruin. There's nothing we can do to stop it."

"I don't agree." She brought her knees up to her chest and rested her chin on them like she used to do as a young teenager.

"No?"

She shook her head. "I believe most people have a bit of good within them. An antibiotic so to speak. Especially you."

Roy turned his head toward her and looked at her quizzically. "Me?"

"You had such beautiful goals and I believed in them. I wouldn't have given you the secrets to flame alchemy if I thought of you as a disease." She kept her focus on the minacious plumes of smoke rising into the air, now less trenchant due to the darkening sky.

"But I betrayed that. I betrayed you."

"Yes, you did." There was no anger in her voice. "However, I know that you're a wonderful man. You have so much good in you . . . Mister Mustang. "

The use of that address made him smile. It harked back to a time when his ideas didn't seem like a dream of a foolish young man. The smile faded when he realized that she was still calling him good when he was anything but. How could she say those things? How could she forgive him the way she seemed to be? She had to be holding back her feelings and resisting the actions she truly wanted to take. No one could possess that much forgiveness.

"Stop it," he snapped. Her gaze darted to his, confusion evident on her expression. "Stop lying to me."

Her eyes narrowed. "What in the hell do you mean lying?"

"I'm a murderer, so why not come out and say it. Yell and tell me how angry I made you over this betrayal of your trust. Tell me how much you want to kill me. I know you do and I can't blame you so just fucking say it."

"You are a fucking murderer!" she yelled at him. She sighed and slouched, letting her legs stretch back out in front of her. Her voice returned to its normal volume. "But so am I. I'm not a liar and I'm not a hypocrite. I can't berate you for following orders with your weapons when I did the same with my own. Yes, I was angry when I first saw the way you were using flame alchemy and I even had you in my sights ready to pull the trigger. But I didn't because I still see good in you."

"You're foolish. You should've shot me."

"I don't think I am foolish at all. This war has changed me and made me more realistic now. The world isn't a place where everyone gets their happy endings. The good guys don't always win and evil isn't always vanquished. Good and evil aren't always clearly defined either. There's no such thing as black and white. We're monsters but we have the ability to change if we want to."

"Doesn't feel like it."

"No, it doesn't, but we can at least try. We can at least try to heal the world for a short while. Then it will be up to the next generation to keep it up. You could do that for this one. You could be Amestris's healer. You can still use flame alchemy for the good of the people."

"The only way I could heal this nation is to have a great position. A doctor for the country or something."

"Or a fuehrer," she said absently.

Roy laughed. "That's crazy. Completely idealistic and mad."

Riza turned to him, her eyes wide. "And you are capable of both idealism and madness."

Roy stared at her and everything seemed to click. It was a position worth working toward. "Yes, I am," he said. For the first time since he arrived in Ishbal, he gave a genuine smile. "I'm going to tell Maes about this." He stood and looked down at the most precious woman in the world. She was always the one that gave him life when things looked their bleakest. "Thank you, Riza."

When she nodded and looked ahead, Roy felt as if the temperature when down a few degrees. He would inquire about it later and go tell Maes how extremely brilliant she was. He started to turn away but froze when he heard her mutter.

"A notebook." She clearly hadn't expected him to hear.

He turned back to her. "That…I…Notebook? I remember you said that when you first showed me the secrets. What do you mean by that?"

She smiled at him and stood. "Really, it's nothing. Go talk to Hughes."

"You're sure?"

Riza nodded. He hesitantly turned and walked away from her.

-/-/-

Riza gave a sad smile as he left. It seemed that every time she went to talk with him, to gain some sort of companionship with someone she knew, he either was with Maes or eventually left to talk with Maes. She couldn't help possess a slight tinge of jealousy. She knew Maes would've welcomed her, but she just wanted some alone time with Roy.

She sat back down. Perhaps her only use really was as a notebook. Perhaps that was what he thought of her too. That and someone to lean on. If that were the case she'd be there for him as a way to redeem herself and make sure he never used flame alchemy to murder ever again.

She sat atop the dune thinking until the sun had set and the moon was casting a silvery glow around the area. No one would be able to see her there without a bright light. She'd camp there tonight rather than go back to the main camp. She had some thinking about her future to do.

But no matter what, she would help Ro—Lieutenant Colonel Mustang, in whatever he decided for his goals. Because she knew he was the only one with the capability to bring the diseased country into remission.

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 **AN: I hope you like the start to this. If you'd like a slightly happier version, and a M rated one, then the story is on my account on Ao3. Please leave a comment if you have the time. This collection, like my comedy collection, will be updated randomly when I get ideas and or rewrite some of my old angst.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Burns and Bulletholes: Royai Angst Collection**

 **Author: MoonStarDutchess**

 **Story 2: She Drank, Grabbed Gun, Undeserved Mercy**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own FMA and gain no profit from this fanfiction.**

 **An: This was previously called A Door in the Mind. I've wanted to rewrite it for a while, but I'd been avoiding doing so. Currently, I've been in a bit of a dark place, writing is therapy for me so I decided to pour my guts into this fic.**

 **AN: This story may be a trigger for suicide. If you or someone you know is thinking about suicide, please go to suicide dot org or** **befrienders dot org** **and call one of the many hotlines available there.**

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A little over ten years. That's what it took before she could finally read in the paper that Roy Mustang was the new Fuehrer of Amestris. The headline, a single statement written in simple ink with bold font, was the most surreal sentence she'd ever read and probably ever would read.

After all of those years of blood, stress, sweat, death, and tears, that wonderful man had reached his ultimate goal. That meant, her goal of pushing him to the top and watching his back as he ascended was complete.

Before he was chosen to be fuehrer, they'd worked with the Ishbalans. The religious people insisted that war crime trials not occur. They'd stated that too many people had died and their religion preached against revenge. And they'd been so forgiving, that they'd thrown their support behind Roy despite what he'd done. They were kind to her despite her actions.

She thought they were fools, but was grateful.

That entire day, as Roy gave the speeches and dealt with the press, she noticed him occasionally glance at her. In lulls between the busyness, she'd catch him staring. His face was filled with a worried expression, and she knew he must've read her mood. He'd started to say something to her a few times, but he never managed to form the words to begin a discussion. She was thankful he hadn't.

She'd wanted this day to come for years. Worked so hard for it. Imagined how she would feel on that day.

And her expectations shattered the moment she heard. She put on a smile to keep anyone from asking if something was wrong. She wouldn't take the shine off his day. Off Amestris' bright future. After the celebrating ended, she went straight back to work to try to rid herself of the emptiness she felt.

Fortunately, the tasks of Roy's acceptance speech, the ceremony planning, and her new position, kept that emptiness at bay, but in the back of her mind it was looming, ready to pounce the moment she didn't weigh herself down with tasks.

He was officially sworn in now, living at the fuehrer's mansion and ready to set the country on a new path. She knew he needed her, and she needed to be with him. She had tasks to perform so it wouldn't be much different, but now there wasn't a seemingly insurmountable goal hanging precariously over them.

She was here in the same apartment, going about her same routine, only with a new weight upon her. The tension inside her had increased gradually as she went about her evening tasks. She fed Hayate, fixed and ate her dinner, took a shower, then changed into her pajamas. All the while, her stress heightened more and more and more, sapping her energy with every movement.

She thought she was over this. They were pardoned. The Ishbalans had forgiven her, as much as they could. She was no longer a hostage. The homunculi were gone. Everything was safer.

She made her way to the living room and over to her bookshelf, but tonight she wouldn't be selecting a book. It was what was tucked in behind the books. A bottle of very expensive unopened whiskey. She kept it so she could celebrate with Roy. She'd be drinking alone instead. Why wasn't what they did still bothering him? Why wasn't he scared?

After getting a glass from the kitchen, she walked into her small bedroom, locked her door, and sat on the bed. She opened the bottle, poured herself a generous amount of the golden liquid it contained, and sat the bottle on the table beside her within reach.

Lifting the glass, she looked at the contents and smirked. "Roy's medicine," she muttered and took a large drink. The liquid streamed down her throat, burning it in the pleasure and pain way that only whiskey could. She made no outward signs it bothered her. She took another drink, followed by another, then another, then another. She drank like she was obsessed with emptying the bottle's contents within the hour. Hoping, praying to a god she wasn't sure was there that it would keep her horrible past, her fear of the future, and the emptiness, the pointlessness, from coming to her. Her eyes stared straight ahead, focusing on a bit of chipped red paint on the doorframe.

Red. So much red. Like the blood.

Roy's goal had been the item pushed against the door in her mind that concealed her murderous past. She was supposed to be dead now. Death had always been the elephant in the room with the two of them. She was supposed to die after this happened. Not have to live with having a future and dealing with what she'd done.

Thoughts bombarded her, taking turns before she pushed them back with another focus of liquor burning and chipped paint. It was selfish; she deserved to live with all of this. Her mental blockade slowly opened, inch by inch, flashbacks coming of the deplorable actions she committed. Blood splattered faces of the people she killed; faces she thought had been forgotten, flashed in front of her eyes. She heard the screams of the people when their family members fell to the ground because of her bullet. She heard their shrieks of pain and saw them as the flames from Mustang engulfed them. Flames that were there because of a choice she made.

"Goddamn it!" She hurled the glass across the room. She slid from the bed to the floor, grabbed her head, and clawed for a way to stop the images from taking over. She pulled her hair, ran her fingers down the side of her face. Anything. . .

Hayate started scratching at the door and whimpered.

Tears poured from her eyes and she screamed again, not caring who heard her. She'd do anything to drown out the cries in her head.

At the same time of that assault, emptiness filled more of her. No purpose. She didn't have a purpose anymore. Even if she was helping him. She was so useless.

No use.

No use.

The door in her mind was now wide open. She had no time to hate it, no time to think as she opened her bottom drawer where she knew a gun was waiting.

She got it out, clicked off the safety, and put it to her head. Her heartbeat sped up as she placed her finger on the trigger.

And pulled it.

Click

Empty.

Even her gun wasn't showing her the mercy she longed for.

But she hadn't expected it to.

Because she knew she didn't deserve it.

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 **AN: This fic in no way shape or form condones suicide or the attempt. It does not condone the use of alcohol as an option to numb things. Realistically, that's how some people try to cope.**

 **It isn't intended to shame myself or anyone else. Talk to a friend, or a loving parent. If you don't have that, there are places online to get help. If you need help, please please find the resources. befrienders, suicide dot org, and suicide hotlines org. All of them are international or have international numbers as options.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Burns and Bullet Holes: Royai Angst Collection**

 **Author: MoonStarDutchess**

 **Story 3: His Obsidian Gaze - Version A**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist and gain no profit from this fanfiction.**

 **AN: The original fiction of this is old. I originally had it posted as an oneshot but I'm cleaning up my account and putting some of my shorter oneshots in these collections. This is the FMABrotherhood ending version. It's not as touching as the version B one, but it's cute and a request from a dear friend of mine.**

* * *

The first time I saw his dark eyes was when he came to train under my father. They were the first of their kind to me. The first eyes I ever saw that weren't blue, green, or brown. They were also a different shape than I was used to. They were filled with frustration, anger, and the raindrops descending from the midnight sky. They were eyes that seemed so bottomless that I wouldn't stare into them for long out of fear of being lost in them. For the entire time he lived with my father and me, I never made eye contact, choosing instead to look at his nose or forehead. If he knew of my avoidance, he never let me know it.

When he came back on the day my father died, I met them again. Unspeakable mourning and a thousand apologies shot out at me and dragged me into his sight like magnets. Then I jerked away and avoided looking again, much like I did when I was younger. I wasn't a helpless little girl like he believed me to be. I didn't want to see the pity or condolences I knew resided within the blackness. It was when I gave him the secrets to flame alchemy that I first realized I didn't have to stare into them to feel their glare. As he memorized the secrets, engulfing the red lines on my back, it was as if I could feel his regard burning along the pattern my father seared into my flesh. If he could do that by merely staring, then he was destined for flame alchemy.

I saw him again in Ishbal. I kept my sights on his face only, still not having the courage to make eye contact with him. It wasn't a fear of losing myself in them this time, or to see frustration, anger, or pity. I knew his eyes carried the same haunted look as mine did. Eyes of a killer would reflect back the fact I helped create a murderer and became one myself.

Through my years as his subordinate, I never looked into them. I made it appear as if I was, and I thought he never noticed. I'd become an expert at fooling people. I made them think I was cold. I made them think I was the perfect officer. I made them believe I didn't feel human emotions like everyone else. I thought I had him fooled.

I didn't.

"Look me in the eyes, Riza," he said. With those words, my heartbeat increased to the point I could hear each thump in my ears like a steady drumbeat. I wanted to meet his eyes, but I couldn't out of guilt for not protecting him better. His sight was taken from him during the last fight because of it. I feared that Marco's stone would not be able to bring his sight back and he would forever blame me for it.

He took his hand and lifted my chin so my head was directly facing toward his. If I looked straight ahead, our eyes would meet. He moved my bangs away from my eyes and I felt myself blush at the intimate gesture.

"I want you to be the first person I see, Riza. Please, look me in the eyes this time. Stop avoiding me now."

"You—You knew I was doing that?"

"Yes. Please, Riza, look at me."

I summoned all the courage I had and looked up at him. I saw nothing of what I expected to see.

"I love you, Riza Hawkeye," he said.

And I never took my gaze off his obsidian one.

One that could now see.


	4. Chapter 4

**Burns and Bullet Holes: Royai Angst Collection**

 **Author: MoonStarDutchess**

 **Story 4: His Obsidian Gaze - Version B**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist and gain no profit from this fanfiction.**

 **AN: The original fiction of this is old. I originally had it posted as an oneshot but I'm cleaning up my account and putting some of my shorter Oneshots in these collections. This is the original version that I had up years ago with some added fluff.**

* * *

The first time I saw his dark eyes was when he came to train under my father. They were the first of their kind to me. The first eyes I ever saw that weren't blue, green, or brown. They were also a different shape than I was used to. They were filled with frustration, anger, and the raindrops descending from the midnight sky. They were eyes that seemed so bottomless that I wouldn't stare into them for long out of fear of being lost in them. For the entire time he lived with my father and me, I never made eye contact, choosing instead to look at his nose or forehead. If he knew of my avoidance, he never let me know it.

When he came back on the day my father died, I met them again. Unspeakable mourning and a thousand apologies shot out at me and dragged me into his sight like magnets. Then I jerked away and avoided looking again, much like I did when I was younger. I wasn't a helpless little girl like he believed me to be. I didn't want to see the pity or condolences I knew resided within the blackness. It was when I gave him the secrets to flame alchemy that I first realized I didn't have to stare into them to feel their glare. As he memorized the secrets, engulfing the red lines on my back, it was as if I could feel his regard burning along the pattern my father seared into my flesh. If he could do that by merely staring, then he was destined for flame alchemy.

I saw him again in Ishbal. I kept my sights on his face only, still not having the courage to make eye contact with him. It wasn't a fear of losing myself in them this time, or to see frustration, anger, or pity. I knew his eyes carried the same haunted look as mine did. Eyes of a killer would reflect back the fact I helped create a murderer and became one myself. For a short period, I contemplated putting a bullet between his eyes, then doing the same to myself.

Through my years as his subordinate, I never looked into them. I made it appear as if I was, and I thought he never noticed. I'd become an expert at fooling people. I made them think I was cold. I made them think I was the perfect officer. I made them believe I didn't feel human emotions like everyone else. I thought I had him fooled.

I didn't.

"Look me in the eyes, Riza." My heartbeat increased in its pace to the point I could hear each thump in my ears like a steady drumbeat. I couldn't. I wanted to meet his obsidian gaze, but if I did, I would see my mistake staring at me. I'd see one dark eye and an eye patch covering my failure.

I could understand why he left Central and went to the northern outpost. For leaving a woman who could never look into both eyes because of her damn insecurities, fear, and incompetence.

I felt that if I looked I would see blame in his stare.

He took his hand and lifted my chin so my head was directly facing toward his. If I looked straight ahead, our eyes would meet; I directed my attentions elsewhere. He moved my bangs away from my eyes and I felt myself blush at the intimate gesture. I almost shouted with surprise when he pulled me against him. We were in the middle of a cleanup, the area was crowded with military personnel, and most were now staring at us.

"People are watching," I said, trying to get him to stop this public display. As much as I wanted it, now was not the proper time.

"Look me in the eyes," he stated again.

"Now's not the time."

"Riza Hawkeye, I love you."

My eyes jerked to his before I could think about what I was doing. Then I was trapped. As I stared into his eye, I didn't see any of the emotions my mind told me I would. There was no pity or condolences. I didn't see a murderer or any blame being pushed at me. Despite everything that happened throughout our years together, the only thing I saw was unconditional love.

"Finally you look at me for real," he said, his voice touched with a gentle lilt. "It's about time."

"You knew?"

"Yes," he said and then moved his lips over mine. I relaxed and wrapped my arms around his neck. I didn't care about the soldiers watching us or about the place or the time. All I cared about was Roy Mustang.

When we pulled away, I whispered my feelings to him, affirming everything through my gaze.

Which never left his.

* * *

 **AN: As you can see, this one is based off the first series and the movie and a bit of brotherhood too. I'm a huge fan of the first series everything from the music to the art consistency (not the art overall) is better for me. We got some great though tiny Royai in it too. But, I despise the movie with the power of a 1000 suns. I admit that I contemplated on where to put it. Since Riza was so nervous, I decided angst collection might be a good fit, though I could see this in my romance collection as well. Anyway, I hoped you liked it. Please tell me what you think if you have the time. If not I'll see you next time I hope.**


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